


Fools can do anything together.

by Mehehilill



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Peter Hale, BAMF Derek, BAMF Stiles, Blood Kink, Blood and Violence, Everyone Is Alive, F/M, Female Stiles Stilinski, Fluff and Angst, Future Fic, Happy Ending, I'm Bad At Tagging, Idiots in Love, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, fuk'n magical trees always around, mostly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-11
Updated: 2018-05-11
Packaged: 2019-05-05 05:24:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14610330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mehehilill/pseuds/Mehehilill
Summary: Derek is kidnapped and Stiles runs to the rescue!





	Fools can do anything together.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there!  
> So I've been working on this for some time, and I'm so happy it's finished I'm posting it with no editing! I'll work on it later on to correct everything. You guys let me know whatever you see out of place, or if I missed tags and such. I never do FemStiles because I love him as the boy we know but somehow it wet like that and I don't mind it too much. Enjoy!

Stiles takes advantage of the confusion and slips out of the clinics back door. She moves quickly and with care. Most of the pack inside is too busy yelling their heads off to each other to actually hear her, but she wouldn’t bet on Talia’s distraction just as much. You don’t keep the Alpha status up for 30 years without noticing things. She has probably heard her walk on the gravel of the car park already, even though Stiles is proud of how silent she’s managing to be. She drops the stealthiness when she arrives at the jeep. The keys jingle in her hands, and she can hear the racket in the clinic quieting down by a notch. She hops in, gets Roscoe in gear and slams on the accelerator. The head start is enough to leave the pack behind, except maybe Talia, but Stiles knows her alpha wont interfere. Talia’s been like a mother to Stiles since her real mothers death, caring for her in the name of Claudias friedship. She knows there’s no way to budge Stiles from her purpose once she’s gotten her mind set on an idea. Even though it’s not an idea that’s guiding Stiles right now, but a sensation, and a suspicion. The road blurs past her while she moves deeper and deeper in the preserve. How fucking huge can a forest be for her not to have explored it all already? She lived there for the last sixteen years, been running with werewolf through it day and night, and still there were places and spots she had never seen. That bugged her to no limit. Stiles was the one with the knowledge. That was her role in the pack, the reason she was considered worthy of training as Emissary and worked her ass off studying magic, cryptic, old books all through the past year. That had damaged her already close to non-existent social life, thank you so much! Stiles feels a tug in her chest and turns the wheal abruptly to the left. The sensation was strengthening by the minute, growing more urgent. Stiles had ignored it for so long now it felt strange to hold on to it so fiercely. She would have never admitted it before, to anybody or even herself, but she new what that sensation was, and why it’s presence always ignited an annoying warmth in her chest. It was the same way HIS presence made her feel. And that’s why she was positive she new where the urgent-tugging sensation was guiding her…to whom. She drives silently (if the roaring noise of the jeeps engine could be called silence) for what seems like ours but must be minutes. Granted, a lot of minutes, like, at least forty! Until she slams on the brakes and brings the jeep to a sudden halt, almost slamming herself through the windshield. Without losing time to examine her options too much she grabs the baseball bat from the backseat and hops down. She walks in the undergrowth of the forest, thanking god she always wears long jeans and huddies that wont do much against werewolfs claws, but can do wanders to avoid thorns and scratches. The more she walks the more the forest turns wild and primitive, thick all around her. A branch makes her loose her footing eventually and she rolls to the ground before pushing up and…Stiles sees it. She’s fallen through the bushes directly in a small clearing, a single gigantic tree jutting in the middle of it, and to it’s bark a man is tied arms up with a rope. Not just a man though, but a werewolf, HER werewolf; Derek. The sensation in her chest stutters, torn between the relief of finding Derek and the anger of seeing him tied up and bloody from bruises that have probably healed already. Stiles forces herself to tear her head away and gazes the small clearing for dangers. If her suspicion is true, she and Derek have company.  
–“Come on, creepwolf, come out to play!” she screams, going as far as whistling like she would to call a dog back. This wakes Derek from the numbness he had fallen into and he snaps his head up to gauge at Stiles. Stiles eyes him from the corner of his vision, glad he’s conscious again. Derek’s about to yell at her to run but the words die on his lips when a shadow lurks out of the treeline on his right.  
–“My oh my, Stiles. What brings such a nice lady so far out in the woods? Aren’t you afraid of wild animals?” comes the sickening sweet voice of his uncle. Derek growls and Stiles huffs, bat resting on her shoulder and feet wide apart. She’s ready for battle, Derek notes, but her heart is hammering and her confident stance clashes with the stink of fear she has around.  
-“Peter, my dear.” She answers back with silky cold voice. –“Wild animals will never be as frightening as the glint in your eyes.”  
Peter smirks happily. And Dereks anger flares. This really wasn’t the time to bust his uncles ego!  
–“What the he hell! Stiles go away!” he yells. Stiles cocks her head in question, finally looking at him for a brief glance before focusing his attention back on Peter. Derek wouldn’t hold it against her. Every pack member had learned not to lose sight of Peter for more than a second at a time if they wanted to keep their internal organ...well, internal. Even if it was just training.  
-“Now, why would I do that, bug guy?” Stiles askes.  
–“You don’t understand. He’s not the Peter we know, he’s gone mad. He’ll kill you, like-” Derek hurries to relay, until his voice breaks off on the last words. Anger and sadness clogging his throat he can’t bring himself to say his sister died. Not out loud.  
-“Just like he killed Laura.” Finishes Stiles in his stead. Derek blurry eyes go wide. Peter smirks. –“A way to gain an Alphas power I suppose.” she says.  
Peter flashes his Alpha red eyes in response –“You’ve always been a clever girl Stiles. I had to work so much to hide my moves from you, and yet, you were constantly in my way, a hindrance just as much as Kate Argent turned out to be.” Peter admits, still not moving from his spot along the tree line. Stiles stands her ground just as well, unusually still in front of the danger. Derek realizes she’s cataloging every information and calculating their options. In the end, if there’s a way to get them out of this situation alive, Stiles is the only one that can find it.  
-“She was working with you all along then, since The Fire eight years ago. At least you could’ve spared Derek from taking the blame all this time.” Stiles argues with a little pout.  
-“It wasn’t what we had agreed in the beginning.” Peter scoffs, clearly annoyed by the memories.  
-“Damn it! Where did all the serious evil minions go to lately?” Stiles teases, never able to pass up on a good jab.  
-“Don’t tell me.” Peter retorts just as sarcastic.  
–“I took care of the problem anyhow. She won’t disobey me anymore.” He assured, waiving a hand in Dereks general direction. Stiles hesitates for a second, following the hint without enthusiasm. She scannes the base of the tree better than before and finally sees the body slumped between the roots. So Kate was dead. Well, Stiles doesn’t have tears to spare for her. Following her instincts, she lets a blinding smile bloom on her face.  
–“What a pity.” She mocks, and then giggles heartedly. By the look on Dereks face, she was doing a good impression of being mad. Swinging the bat carelessly she starts heading toward Peter with nonchalance, like they’re both in the Hale house preparing dinner for the pack, and not facing each other in the middle of the woods.  
–“So if the position is finally free I’ll like to apply.” She states convinced, heart unwavering. Derek gapes at her, shocked to the bone. Stiles ignores him completely. In her head she has worked on all possible scenarios for this situation, and she likes the outcome of a few. The ones where she and Derek come out alive, mostly.  
–“Seriously Peter, you would have avoided so many nuisance if you just had the balls to ask me earlier” she observes out loud. The only way she can pull it off against a werewolf, is by gaining an advantage. She aims to close proximity and surprise effect, hopes it will be enough to outweigh werewolf reflexes an __  
BAM!  
The bang makes her ears ring, and she feels confused for a second, ‘cause she hasn’t swung her bat yet, and the sound was so fucking loud it has to have come from somewhere near but… Her Thoughts trail off as she puts Peters hand into focus, the one he has kept slightly behind him all this time, and now Stiles can see it holds a gun and it’s pointed out to ---  
-“Shit!” Derek curses, the word followed by a gurgling sound while he spits black blood. There’s also a black hole in his chest where some other black blood is starting to spill. Stiles might faint in a second. She really would if her flite or fight instinct didn’t jump in action, and suddenly her muscles are contracting in the first phase of a perfect head swing, but ----  
BAM!  
A second bullet shoots. In the future, Stiles wishes she could tell the tale saying that, in that crucial moment, she had steeled her nerves and brought the bat down on the villain with fierceness…but the true is Stiles panics at the second shoot, tries to look back at Derek with the bat is flying in the air, and ends up stumbling. She misses Peter by far, losing balance enough that she would have face planted on the forest soil if a strong arm hadn’t caught her by the waist.  
-“Ha Stiles. You’re always so creative.” Peter muses, holding her tight to him even though she’s trying to wriggle with all her strength.  
–“Attacking an Alpha with your enchanted bat, that sure would have gotten anybody-els off guard.” he compliments her. With close to no effort he rips the bat from her hands and throws it to the ground. Stiles makes a conscious effort to stop struggling.  
-“Anybody-els but you.” She spits, turning her head at an awkward angle to check Derek over while still In Peters hold. The young wolf is trembling. His eyes are shut tight, pain distorting his handsome features, and now he’s sporting a second blackening hole right where his liver should be. Stiles flinches for him.  
-“It wasn’t supposed to go like that.” She says in a small voice. Peter makes a humming noise and wraps his gun arm around her too. She’s painfully aware of his intense gaze.  
–“Shush baby girl, it’s ok.” He coos. Stiles feels him nuzzling her neck, scenting her and nibbling. She can’t say she’s surprised by that, she has noticed Peter obsession with her in the past. Stiles shudders as the wolf nibbles on her pulse point with blunt teeth.  
-“He will heal. You can save him.” He whispers in her ear. At that Stiles finally turns her head around to meet his gaze. Derek has passed out anyhow. Peter’s eyes are full of mirth, and the iris is tinged with specks of red. This close to him, wrapped up against his chest, she realizes Peter’s breath is labored just as hers. But his veins on the neck are pulsing and their is a slight flash of fang when he smirks at her. Peter is not fatigued because of their little clash, like Stiles is, nope! He’s weary from the effort of restraining his wolf.  
-“All that power, Peter.” She muses. The werewolf is right. There might still be something Stiles can do to save Derek. It’s not an option she’s happy with, but it’s the only one she has right now. Stiles has made up her mind she will do anything necessary to protect Derek since the first time she saw his smile anyway. It doesn’t matter if it will involve a lot pain for her. Damn, it’s gonna be sooo much pain. She takes a deep breath to steel herself, subtly pushes her hips closer to Peter.  
–“All that wildness enclosed in a…” She stutters, hiding it by doing a visible once over of Peters chest.  
–“… a man. A man with desires. And the needs of a beast to fuel them.” She finishes, letting her heart beat faster in fear, trying to lure the instinct of the wolf out. Not that she has to fake it so hard.  
-“Yes. That’s what I’m talking about.” Peter says, leaning to assault her neck once again.  
-“If you’ll be a good girl and let me feast on you, I’ll give you the wolfsbane in the bullets and let you save my dear nephew.” He mumbles while sucking a mark behind her ear. Stiles hesitates, because it’s just a hickey, but it’s so brutal it hurts already, and maybe she’s not strong enough for this task! She squirms and Peter tightens his hold.  
-“Come on Stiles, be brave. The pack is far. Even if they track the phone you left in your old jeep, they wont get here before I kill the both of you. Gain them some time.” Peter reasons, breathing her cent in.  
–“I’ll even be a gentleman, and avoid sacrificing Derek to that goddam magic tree. An Alpha’s going to make the spell work better anyway.” He offers goodheartedly. Stiles wants to scoff at him, because she’s far from being naïve enough to believe Peter is changing his plans for her (no matter how much of a sick pig he is). The wolf needed an Alpha from the very start, and Derek is the perfect bait for the only two Alphas in town. Talia and Scott are in danger, and Stiles helped them into the trap faster.  
-“A real gentleman would do that, and he would also let me heal one of the bullet wounds on his beloved nephew…” Stiles ventures. Trying doesn’t hurt. She notes the way Peters squints at her suspiciously when she drags the vowels in ‘beloved’, and files it for later –“…before getting on with the program.” The words have barely left her lips that Peters arms are gone and she slums to the ground. The werewolf stalks to the unconscious not-good-enough-sacrifice and makes a quick job of healing the liver-leveled wound with what Stiles has come to call ‘The Scorching touch of wolfsbane ceremony’ through the years. Yeah, she has a tendency for dramatics, sue her! As quickly as Peter vanished, he comes back, coat lost on the floor and jeans unbuttoned.  
-“I’m really glad we agreed on this course of action.” He says gleeful. Stiles gapes a little at that.  
-“You know, I feel like I should point out forcing me to have sex with you by threat is still rape. I might be submissive, but I’m not going to enjoy it or feel less disgusted by your touch. This is not how consent works.” Lecturing a nearly feral werewolf, murderer, killer of his own blood, and who’s about to rape you. Not so smart. Though really, she’s about to get raped, behind Peters back she can see Derek, breathing a little better, but unconscious and hanging by his wrists, so Stiles really doesn’t give a flying fuck!  
-“I thought you were the smart one in the pack Stiles, consent is an issue between humans and mortals.” The werewolf chastise in suave tones. The gap between them is covered in two long strides, and Stiles is abruptly hoisted up on her feet by a hand fisted in her hair. Peter hauls her against a tree, back meeting bark painfully, and grins in her face.  
-“You though, are just a tool about to be used by a powerful, supernatural being to let out some tension. And don’t get me wrong, I would so enjoy a good chase, but having you pliant to my request is both a satisfactory sight and a way to save time. I’m also not sure if I could stop myself from tearing you to shreds if I lost control of the wolf during the squabble.” The last part is added as an afterthought. Stiles kind of wants to argue that ‘stay whole and alive’ is way up high in importance on her list, like, the third to the top, right under ‘protect pack’ and ‘make Derek smile’. She doesn’t get the chance when Peter trades his hold on her hair to grip her throat viciously. Stiles hands fly to the grip that’s cutting her air out, legs kicking as hard as she manages on her attackers knees. Peters eyes flash red at the contact but then his hold relents some. Stiles couldn’t be more surprised. Did air always burn so much when breathed?  
-“So fragile and yet so untamed.” The wolf whispers, a contemplative tilt to his head. -“Such a turn on.”  
With his free hand, he reaches down and literally rips her jeans off. OUCH! Why did that even hurt?! Shredded jeans now pooling at her ankles, Stiles feel terribly exposed, goosebumps crawling on her skin.  
-“What are this? Granny underwear? This is the perfect way to avoid getting laid!” Peter laughs out. Stiles heart is pounding like a drum in her ears since the werewolf pushed her against the tree, enough she doesn’t really hear the words at first. When she does, an internal battle starts between her need of self-preservation and her sarcasm compulsion. Oh, who’s she kidding?  
-“Is it working?” She’s never had enough fear, or sense of self-preservation to actually stay silent.  
Peter smirks, ripping her underwear too –“Not a chance, darling. Wait, what’s with the sheep fur down here? It hasn’t been such a cold winter.” So now the old Creepwolf was jabbing her? That’s it, she was going to let her sarcasm loose and it was so not her fault!  
-“I’m sorry, I don’t think you’re in the position to – actually, no, you now what? You’re right. You caught me unprepared, obviously. Why don’t we postpone all this rape thing to another date? I’ll wash, shave and put my sexy lingerie on for the occasion. Promise!” She says with the best ‘cold-little-shit’ tone she could master with a clawed hand wrapped around her throat.  
-“Nice try, but do not worry yourself, I’m not that picky.” The wolf assures, somewhat entertained by the banter, enough to participate.  
-“Who would have thought.” Stiles grumbles under her breath, but Peter ignores her.  
-“Besides, I’m not here to look at you.” He growls against her lips, and just like that Stiles is spun around. Now the tree bark is grazing her face and not her back, a sting that Stiles overlooks when she feels clawed hands dragging her hips out and up in the air. A knee between her legs pushes them open and her ass cheeks are spread apart, exposing her to her captive.  
-“Enjoying the view much? Go ahead, have a taste. I could use a little lube for what’s to come.” She provokes him in false bravado. The werewolf probably cents her anxious terror by now, but if she has to live through this humiliation she’s not going down alone. Not until she breaths. Peter plasters himself on her back, his shaking laughter reverberating through both of them. It was the worst sound Stiles had ever heard.  
-“Darling! Now why should I bother with lube when you already made it so clear this is rape .” He says against her ear. There’s a ruffling sound. Whatever retort Stiles was about to give dies on her lips as Peter breaches her entrance with a spearing thrust. Stiles’ vision waver, breath hitching in her throat and preventing her from screaming in pain. The push is ruthless and unrelenting, tearing the dry walls of her passage.  
-“I smell the salt of your tears.” The wolf hums on her shoulder. –“I love it.”  
Stiles keeps her mouth shut, doesn’t even know if it’s true she’s crying, but knows she will throw up any second from the shock. She tries to shut the sensation of Peter’s long cock grinding faster in her pussy, the movement becoming gradually smoother with the aid of a her own blood. It’s not working much, pain and disgust threatening to overwhelm her, so she tries thinking of something else. The Pack, school, finding magic and painful ways she can kill Peter, or even the roaring anger boiling in her chest! She wonders if that is how Derek feels most of the time. Consumed by the anger towards himself and the ones that try to hurt his loved ones. Derek… Derek is the thought that brings control back to her. She forces herself to breathe in through her nose, counting to three, then out of her mouth to four. Her lungs take a better rhythm, and so does her heart. The pain is still there, stinging with every aggressive thrust, and the fear is not about to go anywhere until their home safe (or dead). Same for the adrenaline, but this, Stiles is happy about. She lives for adrenaline, her nerves thrive on it and her brain rolls fast and focuses hard like on Adderall. Better! With a particularly vicious thrust Peter's mouth raises from littering her shoulders in hickeys and stops to her ear.  
-“Did I break you Stlies? Your pussy is finally getting all nice and wet for me, but I still haven’t heard you scream once. One might think I’m not putting enough effort into this rape.” He says in mock concern. The indirect threat is not lost on Stiles. ‘Scream or I’ll make you.’ She lets a whimper out of her lips.  
-“I was enjoying all the bloody fun!” She barks in outrage. Peter relents with a deeper rough thrust, obtaining another little cry from her. It’s small, smaller than the first one, but it’s like a dam coming loose. Suddenly she’s whining and moaning and outright crying! She’s bracing herself to the tree, hugging it like a lifeline. Her red hoodie is lowered down on her shoulders where Peter tug it to have better access, but it’s still padding her arms from the hard bark. On the other hand her shirt hasn’t been so fortunate, the collar is ripped by teeth to expose the skin, and now hands are shredding the front to reach her breasts. Stiles ‘s not sure where her bra went. She had a bra on right? The memories of dressing that morning are fuzzy, and maybe not so important when there are claws cutting through her nipples. A jolt of pleasure runs from the offended nubs to her pussy, eliciting a moan. A real one. Peter breathes deeply what must be the spike of arousal coming off Stiles. Hey, she’s a hormonal teenager, she has KINKS! It natural and healthy. Mostly.  
-“So you’re into S&M?” Peter sneers. Oh, no! She would NOT be humiliated because her body was reacting positively to a stimulation even though she hadn’t consented to the act! That’s like making fun of a person that laughs when tickled. They had fucking tortured people with that!  
-“Guess you’re just not cut for this rape thing!” She spits, smirking behind her shoulder for the sake of pissing Peter off. The werewolf growls. He takes Stiles from the wrists and bends her arms backwards, using them as leverage to pound harder into her. His hips snapping wildly with every hit. Stiles hopes that means the show is almost over. Her hope is fueled when Peter loses rhythm.  
-“If you’re a masochist...you’ll love this!” He grunts between thrust. Nothing seams to happen at first and Stiles id puzzled. Then she feels the pressure building, pressing on the walls of her pussy.  
-“YOU FUCKING SHIT! YOU’RE KNOTTING ME!?” She yells in fury. Peter only laughs back at her. He’s grinding not too gently now, the knot inflating to his fullness and catching on her rim, preventing most of the movements.  
Stiles swears. –“HOLY! FUCK!” Cue to Peter finally climaxing, coming buckets into her pussy and womb. Stiles keeps on swearing to her heart’s content. She is pretty creative if she can say so herself. Eventually, probably ten to fifteen minutes of Peter orgasming and Stiles swearing, the knot starts deflating. The Werewolf leans on her back again giving a couple of experimenting thrusts, letting his cum slosh out and dripping down her legs. Stiles is sobbing quietly.  
-“Stop crying baby, you don’t have time to worry about breeding.” Peter says, hand caressing her belly. Stiles turns around in his arms to look at him, doing nothing to struggle away from him. If she has to be honest, Peter’s pretense of an embrace is the only thing holding her up.  
-“What?” She asks, lost. The man is grinning wickedly, holding her chin up to let her meet his Red gaze. His thumb grazes her lower lip with a claw.  
-“You didn’t think I’d be satisfied with just this, did you?”  
Stiles is half pushed, half falls to her knees. Turns out the climax didn’t do much for Peter’s erection, it stands proud and jutting in Stiles’ face.  
-“Lick me clean and then coat me with all the spit you can manage. It’s the only lube you’ll get before I pound in that tight sweet ass of yours. You better do a good job.”  
It’s hard to say what is Stiles reaction. She doesn’t want to blow Peter with the same intensity a kid doesn’t want to taste broccoli. It’s childish and desperate because, come on! What’s a little dick licking compared to the life of the man you love? –“SHIT!” She gasps out loud. Ok, she did NOT just admit her feelings to herself (for the very first time) with PETER’S DICK in her face! There will never be proof of this! Why is this her life?!  
Peter grabs her chin again and bites her upper lip. –“Get to work!” He hisses, smashing her face-first on his pubes. Stiles licks tentatively at whatever she can reach. In this case it’s Peter’s balls, cum and blood covered (the blood, her own). She moves a little to get more comfortable, working with abandon on the werewolfs cock in spite of the coppery taste. There’s a new resolve in her mind. The pack must be near. She just needs to keep Derek and herself alive until they arrive. If that means fucking Peter to the end of his tether, (with the added bonus the pack will have to deal with a tired Alpha) then she’ll suck the life out of him if she can. That said, this is still her second blowjob ever. She does what she can, bobs her head, moves her tongue, caresses his balls with a hand and digs her nail in his tight. Peter might be a little masochist too. Or maybe it’s a werewolf thing. She doesn’t care as long as it works enough to distract him but not enough to get him off too fast. That’s also the reason why she’s not using her hands on him. She wants to draw it out, the more the better. Peter’s cock is long and thin she has no problem spreading her mouth around it, but there is no way she can get it all in, to the base. A couple of times Peter thrusts up while she bobs down, and Stiles gags, pulls away immediately. When she sucks on the cock again Peter grabs her hair painfully.  
-“Here, let me help you” he offers. Next thing Stiles knows It’s her nose is buried against Peter’s pubes again, and she’s gagging on the cock that invades her throat. Must be touching her stomach for fucking’s sake!  
-“There you go, you’ll get used to it.” He encourages, easing her off his cock just to slam it back in. Stiles is not sure why she’s not throwing up, thinks it would be better than forcibly deep-throating Peter again and again, but it simply doesn’t happen. Soon Peter is holding her still by the hair and fucking her in the mouth with abandon. There is a moment, or two, of black out for Stiles. She’s not sure if she passes out or what, but there’s a fog in her mind that makes it difficult to think strait. Her eyes look up to Peter. He has lost his shirt at some point, bending a little forward so his abs are all she can see. Suddenly the fucking stops. Peter eases out of her mouth and looks down at her with a grin. His grip on her hair loosens, Stiles felling a bit overwhelmed with the pressure off her scalp easing and her lungs filling all the way. Her throat burns like hell though. Peter meets her lost gaze grinning.  
–“Your mouth baby, I don’t know if I want to still take your ass, or knot you in the throat. If I do the latter, there is a chance you would die suffocated on my cock.” He says thoughtfully, slapping his cock on her cheek. Stiles tries to think over the haze in her mind, find a snarky comeback, but all she manages to croak out is;  
–“Pack.” Because let’s face it, Where the hell have they gone to?! It must have been an hour since Stiles sneaked out of the pack clinic, Danny can trace his phone in under five minutes! Peter laughs hard.  
-“Oh darling, you’re still waiting for them? This is so precious, I taught you would have noticed by now.” His laugh shakes him, making his dick bob on her face.  
-“There is a spell on the whole area, probably extending all the way over your deathtrap of a car. It deflects attention and morphs appearance so that all the ones I don’t want to find us, can’t.” He explains, smug in his victory.  
-“Gl-Glamour.” Stiles stutters, brain finding it hard to accept what her captive is saying.  
-“Exactly my little pet. Oh, don’t worry. They will find you eventually, Lydia and her banshee sixth sense will be able to look through the vail sooner or later, maybe even my sister will be able to follow the pack bond to you and Derek but…it’s going to take a long time. I know you would like me to be lying…” He says when Stiles starts to shake her head a little  
-“… you can feel it though. The confusion you can’t shake out of your head. That’s the glamour working on you, on anyone but me.” He concludes, brushing the tip of his cock on Stiles tongue. Stiles would probably panic if her head was any clearer, she doesn’t, and that’s how she knows Peter is right. She hasn’t lost all the fire though.  
-“E-evil, monologue?” She mumbles on the werewolf cock. Peter barks a laugh.  
-“God, I’m being terribly cliché ain’t I!”  
The throat-fucking resumes but it doesn’t last long. The base of Peter’s dick is getting bigger by the minute. What stops them tough, is an unexpected roar cutting through the air. Stiles flinches off Peter’s cock while he turns around. Behind him Dereck is conscious again, eyes blazing blue and semi-shifted just like his uncle.  
-“Get the hell away from her!!” He yells, a constant growl coming from his chest. He glances briefly to Stiles but adverts his eyes just as quickly. Is he blushing? Stiles will hit him over the head if they ever get out of this. Yes! She’s pretty much naked for the exception of socks and red hoodie, but this is by far the right moment to be prudish.  
-“Derek, nice of you to join us again. How do you feel?” Peter taunts, obtaining another growl from his nephew.  
-“And with one hole less, if you haven’t noticed." He clarifies, and Der must have actually missed that. He’s looking at his body, frowning.  
-“You see, Stiles over here, bargained her services for your life. I’d be flattered if I was you, because her services are quite a thing….I was about to knot her mouth and see if she survives.” Peter explains, acting for all the world like he’s going over the latest basketball vs. lacrosse discussion, and not moving to stuff Stiles throat with his dick again.  
-“No, wait! You can’t! Stop!” The younger werewolf screams.  
-“Why should I? What do I get in exchange for my compassion? ” His uncle smirks. They both know he has won. Stiles is too confused to understand their words, a thing Derek is glad about. That thick head wouldn’t let him do what he’s about to.  
-“I’ll do anything…” He begs.  
-“oh but nephew, what do you have to offer?” Peter asks smug.  
-“…the same bargain as Stiles offered you…” There’s a lump in Derek’s throat he has to swallow around to get the words out.  
-“N-no!” Stiles yells. Her mind isn’t working right, and she hopes that is why she heard what she heard. Derek was so stupid!  
-“I accept” The older werewolf agrees.  
-“Y-you…sick fuck.” Stiles spits out venomously, earning an inhuman slap for her efforts. Then Peter proceeds to grip her by the shoulders and toss her aside. Stiles goes flying in the air, hits a tree. It’s the same tree she was pushed against before, she notices. She leans on it for support and tries to focus on Peter’s and Derek’s form. The glamour is affecting her strangely. Her mind is so confused and slow it reflects on her movements, even though she knows her muscles aren’t compromised, and her body has little more than scratches and bites. Peter is in Derek’s face, they’re talking in hushed tones and their growling covers most of what they say, but Stiles doesn’t really need to hear them to know what they are saying. Derek’s contorted expression of hatred, and Peter’s manic grin sums it up pretty well. The older werewolf unfastens his nephews belt and jeans, hooks his thumb to the sides and pulls everything off, boxers included. It’s done slowly, not ripped like with Stiles, and that either means the Alpha has consumed some pent up energy, or he wants to be more considerate with his nephew. She watches Peter shuck his jeans too, find a place between Derek’s legs. Then, without warning or preparation, he hitches one of Derek’s leg over his hip and plunges in. Derek roars, though Stiles doesn’t really hear it much, and has tears in his eyes. Well, now she knows Peter wasn’t being considerate. The sickwolf, yeah that’s a good new name, starts to pound in and out, showing no mercy for what must be a VERY bloody passage by now. Stiles stops watching. A bit because it's getting harder and harder to focus by the minute. A lot because she can't stand to see Derek get tortured like that. In a normal situation she would be screaming her heart out to protest, stop the events. Everything feels so numb though. She bumps her head on the tree behind her and stars counting her breaths. There are only green leafs in her vision and it's soothing, the lack of inputs letting her have a clearer line of thoughts. She realizes that, unwantedly, she's entered a state of trance. It's probably mostly due to shock, and glamour spell messing with her, but it's not so different from the meditation Deaton makes her practice in every training. The man hates her guts. Tentatively she searcher for the Spark in her. It doesn’t reside in a physical place, so she was taught to think of an image to vector the powers into existence and then mold them at pleasure. The only image she can come up now is the green leafs above her, glinting in the setting sun, and Stiles goes with it. She images the core of the leafs, throbbing with hot sap that’s running down, down to the branches and the trunk, spiraling all the way to the roots and soaking the earth with it’s energy. Just like that, with a very anticlimactic slowness, Stiles mind clears. Her powers are there, sparkling, countering the glamour spell, and she can feel the tree behind her. Again, not in a physical way. Without meaning to, she has created a link to it, she can feel it being alive and connected with all the other trees in the clearing especially…especially the big one where Derek is tied. That’s quite the magic tree. With her brain working properly again Stiles can hear what the two werewolfs are saying. Did she ever mention Peter being a sick pig?!  
-“You’re taking my cock so deep Derek, I always knew you were made to be my bitch. So tight and so hot. I’m going to knot you, mate you, fill you to the brim with my cum, because that’s what you’ll ever be, my sweet cum slut.” He dirty talks between grunts. Derek whimpers with the strength of his uncles thrusts. Stiles can’t see much of his body because she’s behind, and a little to the left, of Peter, but if the way he’s keeping his eyes tightly shut is anything to go by, he must be in a lot of pain. The older werewolf must have done some serious damage. Damage that wouldn’t heal just as quickly as ever now that Peter is an Alpha. Fury boils in Stiles chest and she will murder Peter with her bare hands if she has to! Oh, if only she still had her bat…Stiles looked around frantically, promising herself to run into a wall for her obtuseness. There! Like, three meters from her leg laid her bat on the floor. That weapon was perfect and loyal! Layered with so many reinforcement and injuring enchantments it could beat a rhino to a pulp given the time. It had certainly proven worthy of all of Stiles commitment when it had K.O. a charging bear the previous month. The only flaw was it’s range. A bat was perfect when things came at you, but didn’t work as well in an open offence. Stiles had to retrieve it, get to Peter undetected, and she would only have one shot to knock him out. One shot or nothing. If Peter realized the attack was coming and retaliated, Stiles had very little chance to win against him. A yell of discomfort cut through the air, it was Derek.  
-“Yes, baby. Here you go. Spread wide around my knot and take my cum.” Peter yells in turn, before biting in Derek’s shoulder with all his might. Stiles brain clicks. The sickwolf would be stuck to Derek for whole minutes via his knot, and he’s clearly lost in the pleasure of orgasming and mate biting. This is her time to act.  
–“Here goes nothing” she thinks, then launches herself to the bat willing herself to be silent, drawing energy from the trees to make her limb strong and her movements steady. She gets as far as taking a step after grabbing the bat before Peter turns half-way to look at her. His eyes are red and his mouth is covered in Dereks blood, a demon has nothing on him. But fear never stopped Stiles. She keeps her charge going. Peter moves to intercept her but suddenly there are Derek’s strong legs wrapped around him, keeping him in place. The werewolf turns to growl frustrated at his nephew, spits in those hazel eyes full of rage and hatred…and they’re the last thing he sees. Stiles bat makes contact with the side of Peters head in a blunt, unforgettable sound. The wolf sags immediately, but Stiles doesn’t stop. It wouldn’t take much for the Alpha to heal from that damage. The second swing is at a weird angle but Stiles makes it do. The bat meets the back of Peters head this time, his body pushed forward, his clobbered head falling on Derek’s shoulder (hitting the tree in the process). Stiles about to take a step back to recover when Dereks voice stops her. –“Again.” He orders. Stiles carries out without hesitation. He moves to the other side of Derek and swings. The rattling sound of the skull cracking echoes in the clearing. Derek whines  
-“Free me!” he demands. Stiles drops the bat, runs to the other side again, where the rope is tied to a stump on the floor, and makes a quick work of unlacing it. Derek crumbles to the floor against his uncles body. One second he’s pushing up from Peter’s chest, the next he’s got his claws in Peter’s throat and he’s ripping it out. A roar erupts from him. Their gazes meet, honey brown in Alpha red. They will have time to talk about it, to worry. For now Stiles surges forward to help Derek ease off Peter completely, frees his hands from the rope. Derek first reaction is to check Stiles over for serious injuries. Stiles stops his hand and holds them tight.  
-“I’m ok. We are ok. We did it. We did it together again.” She mumbles reassuring, needing to say the words out lout to believe them herself. Derek nods dumbly, cups her cheeks and kisses her at the side of the mouth.  
-“Sorry. Sorry I shouldn’t ha…” he starts saying, but Stiles is having none of that! She grips his hands on her cheeks, preventing him to move them and squares him with a look.  
-“I swear to God! You broody, stupid, sourwolf, if you don’t kiss me right now I…” The point must have gotten across because the rest of the threat is swallowed by Dereks lips colliding on Stiles’. They aren’t even moving, just pushing against each other, but it’s the most incredible thing that’s ever happened to either of them. There’s a confession of love somewhere in that kiss. They both know. They feel it through the bond that has bind them from the very start.  
-“Really?” Derek asks hopeful, breaking the kiss. Stiles beams.  
-“Yes, big guy, cross on my heart.” She promises. That’s cue for a second kiss, and some nuzzling, and a lot of scenting, ‘till they break out laughing and hugging. Quite a lot of laughing actually.  
-“This might be the adrenaline running down.” Stiles observes. Dereck nods.  
-“Yeah. Better than the alternatives.” He agrees. Stiles scoffs, parting from their hug to look at him better.  
-“What, gonna tell me it’s better than working out those big muscles of yours until they poP.” Stiles exaggerates the P for effect. Derek rolls his eyes at her.  
-“No way. All I want to do now is shower and black out. Butt first…” Derek gets up on his feet smoothly. Stiles is happy to know that at least one of them is already healing.  
-“…Lets go get some curly fries. I’m starving.” He finishes, tossing his jeans on.  
-“Oh God, I love you so much.” Stiles says spontaneously. She freezes. Dereks stare is on her, eyebrows questioning. You know what? Stiles has just killed an Alpha Psychowolf with a bat! She can face the man she loves with the truth!  
-“I do.” She confirms. Derek smiles and bows to peck her lips. Sweet.  
-“You’re a fool...” He mumbles, ‘to love me’ is implied.  
-“And so are you?” Stiles asks tentatively. She’s good at reading Derek, but she needs to hear this out loud. Derek beams.  
-“I am.” He answers, and they share another kiss for good measure.

**Author's Note:**

> There you go! Fools that rock!  
> This started basicaly ike a porn with a little plot, but as I wrote it I ended up appreciating the plot more than the porn. Go figure. This means I'm planning a sequel for it! Hold your breaths! No don't. Really.


End file.
